


Ray Vecchio, Sixty-Four, in Canada in the Summertime

by Scribe



Category: due South
Genre: Author's Favorite, Canada, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe/pseuds/Scribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Vecchio-Kowalski family comes to visit Ray and Fraser in Inuvik.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ray Vecchio, Sixty-Four, in Canada in the Summertime

**Author's Note:**

> Happy More Joy Day!
> 
> Many thanks to Seascribe for the idea, for betaing and encouragement, and for putting up with me bewilderedly liveblogging my writing process at her.

Fraser tells this story about some tribe where old people who think it's their time to die just wander out into the snow and ice and let it kill them, lost and alone and far away from where they'd be a burden on their families. Ray thinks this sounds idiotic. In the winter he doesn't want to wander even six inches from their cabin door, thank you very much, and anyway what if you got out there and then decided you'd changed your mind and maybe you could live a little longer after all? All in all it's a terrible idea.

In summer, though, he sometimes thinks he understands it a little. Ray is utterly, helplessly in love with Canada in the summertime, its raw, perfect, incomprehensible beauty, the sheer vastness of everything. Summer with its endless light seems like one infinite, suspended day, like maybe nothing else exists, even though he knows that the ice is still close underfoot. In the summer he thinks that wandering away into all of that might not be such a bad way to die.

Nor _really_. Realistically speaking, he wants to die peacefully in his sleep, and barring that in a hospital with all the most modern pain management and care. Starvation and dehydration and getting eaten by a bear or something do not figure anywhere on the list.

Still, sometimes he imagines going out the front door and away from the road, toward the trees. Sometimes he thinks that if he walked far enough into the untamed brightness of Canadian summer, into the wild, that maybe the whole idea of being a person just wouldn't matter so much anymore.

 

(He tries explaining this to Fraser once, though he can't find the words he wants and ends up waving his hands around so much that even he feels like a stereotype. Fraser says, _Well, yes, Ray,_ and gives him this smile that lights up his eyes and makes Ray need to kiss him immediately.

By then Ray has already made it through his first Inuvik winter with a great deal of complaining but no actual regrets, but for some reason it's this conversation that finally makes Fraser believe he's staying.)

***

The descent of the Kowalski-Vecchios is the first real company they've had in the year and a half Ray's been living in Inuvik. They aren't hermits or anything; Maggie and her husband have come through twice, and sometimes Ray cooks dinner for one or another of their friends from town, or the curling team, or Fraser's babyfaced Mountie replacement in the months since his retirement. However, none of that's in the same league as being taken over by six gregarious Chicago-bred Italians (and one honorary). When Ray hangs up the phone after confirming their travel plans he looks around the little one-room cabin and says helplessly,

"God, Benny, where are we going to put them all?"

***

Frannie's the first one off the plane.

"Ray!" she cries, and nearly bowls him over. It's chaos after that, a mess of Vecchios stretching and retrieving their baggage and talking over each other as they try to greet everyone. It's startling how much older the kids look than when he left. Not kids anymore, not really—even the twins are done with high school as of last month.

Frannie and Kowalski both hug Fraser hello, so they all follow suit. Fraser's pretty affectionate with Ray these days, and not so bad with other people he knows, but he's still got that untouchable act with strangers. He's met the kids maybe a handful of times, and it makes Ray grin to watch him cautiously embracing each one in turn, looking a little startled.

"You forgot what we were like, didn't you?" Ray says, clapping him on the shoulder as everyone sorts out their luggage.

"You do have a very enthusiastic family, Ray," says Fraser with just a hint of a smile.

"Enthusiastic, huh? That's not the word you'd be using if you'd just spent twenty-four hours on the Great Airport Tour of the North with all of them," says Kowalski. "I thought I remembered just how much hell you had to go through to get here, but I did not."

His tone is cheerful, teasing, but his face is a little pinched and he's using his cane for once. Ray picks up his suitcase without comment.

"At least they had a plane big enough for all of us," says Amanda as they start making their way toward the car. "From Dad's stories I was worried we'd have to take turns."

"It'd be like that puzzle," Kelly puts in. "You know, with the chicken and the fox and the grain or whatever. Except instead of the fox eating the chicken it'd be like, you can't put the boys together or they'll somehow wreck the airplane, unless Dad's with them, but if you leave Dad without Mom he gets grumpy and if you put Mom and Amanda together they'll talk about fashion until everyone else wants to- hey!"

There's a scuffle behind them as someone takes exception to her revised logic puzzle.

"Hellions," mutters Kowalski, smiling.

"It's a good thing we decided to dump them on Ray and Fraser for the week," agrees Frannie. That had been the eventual solution: Frannie and Kowalski would stay in one of the hotels in town and meet up with them during the day, leaving the kids to rough it on the cabin floor.

"Speaking of," says Ray, "do you guys want to head for the hotel, take a nap or something? Or do you want to come out and see the cabin first?"

Frannie and Kowalski exchange a look.

"I'd love to see the cabin, unless you want a rest," says Frannie.

"Nah, let's go," says Kowalski. "I might take you up on the nap offer once we're there, though, if that's okay."

"Of course," says Fraser. "Might I suggest that you drop off your luggage and check in first, while we're in town? Unlike the airplane we can't, ah, actually fit all of you in the car, so we'll have to go in two trips. Unless someone wants to walk."

"No one wants to walk it, Fraser, it takes an hour and a half and they've already been travelling all day," Ray tells him.

"Why don't you get Ray and Francesca settled in, then, and I'll come back and meet you at the Mackenzie?" says Fraser. "It's only twenty minutes or so from the airport on foot, that should leave you just enough time to unpack before I bring the car." He gives Kowalski a worried glance. "Or we could drive over."

"No, you take the kids. It'll be good to stretch the old legs a little," says Kowalski peaceably. Ray's surprised; usually he gets tetchy about anyone attempting to baby him. It makes him wonder if maybe the cane isn't just because hours of airline seats are bad for the bum knee, if maybe Kowalski's using it all the time now.

The car only seats five-and that only barely, with everyone's bags piled in too- so Nick peels off from his siblings and comes with them to the hotel. Ray gives Fraser a quick kiss before they head in opposite directions, because he knows Fraser's worried about whether they're doing that in front of his family even though he's said it's fine a thousand times. Some things you just have to prove.

He's surprised at how good it feels to walk through Inuvik with Frannie and Kowalski and Nick, pointing out the occasional landmark and explaining the maze of aboveground pipes that don't even look weird to him anymore. It isn't what he would have expected, but this place has become his home. This is his family, too, Frannie and Nick who he held at just a few minutes old, twenty whole years ago, and Kowalski, who's somehow ended up his just as much as Fraser's.

It's impressive, really, that Kowalski and Fraser are still best friends, living in different countries for thirty years after working together for less than one. It's one thing to talk on the phone a couple times a week, though, and it's another thing entirely to share a house with someone for nearly two decades. Kowalski is Fraser's friend, but he's Ray's brother-in-law. He's the father of Frannie's children, even if he isn't really.

It's been a long time, is all. He remembers Fraser and Kowalski busting into his hotel room, ruining his cover, thinks he would have had a better chance of winning the lottery that day than of predicting that they'd all wind up here.

Ray's older than his Pop was when he died, now. He doesn't feel it.

***

It's afternoon by the time they all get to the cabin, which has been piled nearly to the rafters with five people's worth of luggage. They do a quick tour, such as it is, with the dogs being the main stop. Everybody always cares most about the dogs. Ray still isn't that excited about them, even though he's the one who spent a month convincing Fraser that keeping a team was a good use of their money. They're doing fine on their pensions, and what the hell is the leftover Vegas money for if not for things that make them happy? So Ray runs up the phone bill calling Chicago and spends too much on produce that they have no business eating this far north, and Fraser gets a bunch of sled dogs.

Well, it takes all kinds.

Kowalski still remembers how to handle the dogs, apparently; they jump all over Frannie and the kids but he does the whole show-them-who's-boss thing and they roll right over for him, a couple of them literally. Avi ignores him and comes trotting over to Ray, but she's a daddy's girl through and through.

"You spoil her," Fraser says, more amused than upset.

"You're one to talk," Ray tells him, leaning down to scratch her ears. "You let me know if she starts refusing to pull the sled and I'll stop. It's not her fault she's the prettiest, smartest dog of the lot, is it, girl?"

 

Kowalski begs off after that and sacks out on the bed while the rest of them go for a walk. They wake him up for dinner, which seems even more loud and crowded in the tiny cabin than it does in the Vecchio dining room, but by the time they're stacking the dishes he's yawning again, along with almost everyone else.

"Come on, I'll drive you guys back," says Ray. "Fraser and the kids can clean up."

"I'm sorry," says Frannie. "It just feels like I've been awake forever. I barely slept on the plane."

"You slept in the airport. One of them." Kevin tells her.

"Well, not very much."

"Don't apologize," Fraser says. "We know it's a long trip up. I have a feeling it's going to be an early night for everyone."

He's entirely right; when Ray gets back from dropping Frannie and Kowalski in town he's only just in time to stop Fraser from giving up their bed.

"Uh-uh," he says. "Mattresses are for old men with bullets stuck in them. Young whippersnappers get the floor."

"What about the couch?" asks Nick.

"As long as you guys fight it out without property damage or blood, I couldn't care less who gets the couch."

Fraser gives him a look of poorly-disguised horror. Ray laughs at him and goes to the bathroom so he can avoid the ensuing fight.

 

They all settle down eventually. Kelly has the couch- Ray's not surprised, she's got a mean streak that he admires- and the others are curled up in an array of sleeping bags and bedrolls and spare winter blankets. Their couple of pieces of furniture have been pushed aside to make room, but even so the kids take up almost every available inch of floor space. Ray barely makes it to the bed without stepping on someone.

Fraser was raised an only child and Canadian to boot, so he doesn't understand how to fight for your standing in the bathroom order and winds up last, predictably. Ray stretches out facing the room and watches his nieces and nephews while he waits. Kelly's typing something on her phone and Nick has an actual book out, but the others have sleep masks on and arms across their faces, blocking out the light. Five dark heads. None of them have grown into a resemblance with anyone in particular, and at this point the mystery of their paternity will probably be just that forever.

Ray's always suspected that the twins are actually Kowalski's, actually; the timing is right for when he and Frannie started dating, though the two of them will neither confirm nor deny. It doesn't matter, though, Kowalski's never treated them one iota different from their brothers and sisters. They're all Vecchios, too, which Ray hadn't been expecting when the twins were born. Kowalski had married Frannie by then, in a wedding he'll never forget- Frannie big as a house, Kowalski so nervous he was close to puking, Fraser beaming in a best man suit that Ray wanted to peel off him- but Kowalski'd just said he wouldn't wish a lifetime of Marlon Brando jokes on anybody, let them be Vecchios.

That was the moment Ray decided Kowalski was okay, he remembers. The wedding had helped, and so had the fact that he'd started dating Frannie when she was near her wits' end with three little kids running around, but it was the realization that Kowalski honestly loved all of Frannie's children the same way that sealed the deal.

 

Fraser comes back from the bathroom finally and gets into bed. Ray pulls the blanket up and leans over to kiss him.

"Goodnight, Benny," he says.

"Goodnight, Ray."

It makes him think of something, a tradition from when the kids were little, and he smiles and rolls over so he's facing the room.

"Goodnight, Amanda."

"Goodnight, Uncle Ray," she says, amused.

"Goodnight, Lauren,"

"Goodnight, Uncle Ray."

"Goodnight, Nicholas."

"'Night, Uncle Ray." He closes his book, rustling around as he settles into the sleeping bag.

"Goodnight, Kevin."

"Goodnight, Uncle Ray."

"Goodnight, Kelly."

"Goodnight, Uncle Ray."

There's a little pause, and then Lauren, bless her, ventures,

"Goodnight, Uncle Benton."

It makes Ray's heart catch in his throat. He reaches back to squeeze Fraser's arm lightly.

"Goodnight, Lauren," says Fraser. He's facing the wall; Ray's almost impressed that he can tell her voice apart from her sisters' after only spending a few hours with them, but this is Fraser. Of course he can.

The other kids follow suit and they go through the whole thing again. By the time everyone's finished Ray's grinning up at the ceiling.

"Goodnight, John-Boy," he concludes, which has never been funny to anyone except him. The kids are way too young to get the reference, and Fraser obviously never watched enough TV, but whatever. He still thinks it's hilarious.

***

The next day they pick up Frannie and Kowalski, pack lunch, and go out for a hike. Ray slathers himself with Fraser's weird anti-black-fly ointment and passes it to Frannie, who's heard enough of his bitching about the evil devilspawn of the insect world to take some without hesitation. Kowalski does too, shrugging when Ray raises an eyebrow at him.

"You think I survived a winter on the ice without Fraser gook? Chicago is one thing, but he's the boss up here. He says gook, I gook."

He doesn't have any luck convincing the kids to use it, though. To be fair, it smells pretty odd.

"Your funeral," says Kowalski, replacing the jar on the table near the door.

"You really might want to try it," Ray warns the room at large. "Believe me, the stuff you put on the bites after you've got 'em is even worse."

The kids glance around, making faces at each other like they think no one can see.

"I think we'll take our chances," says Lauren, and the rest of them mutter agreement. Ray lets it go; they'll learn soon enough. He didn't take it seriously at first, either. It's hard to believe that so much pure evil can be concentrated in one buzzy little mosquito thing until you witness it firsthand. That's Canada for you: pretty and polite from the outside, secretly trying to kill you underneath. He should know.

 

Kowalski doesn't take his cane on the hike, but Kevin contrives to have Fraser fashion walking sticks for everyone out of wood they find.

"You could just say, 'Dad, is your knee all right?'" Kowalski grouses, but he takes his stick.

"Dad, is your knee all right?" Kevin deadpans. Kowalski thwaps him in the back of the head.

"You could avoid it if you'd just bring the cane," Frannie tells him.

"Aww, Fraser said he'd pick a path that'd go easy on me, right Frase?"

"Of course. That isn't a reason to ignore simple and obvious precautions, though."

Kowalski rolls his eyes and looks at Ray for help, but Ray raises his hands.

"Hey, don't expect me to help if you trip and bust it again. I've done my carrying people around Canadian forests duty for a lifetime."

"And a fine job it was," Fraser says, giving him a warm smile. Then the kids get curious, of course, and Ray has to tell the whole story again, from the plane crash to the bola to the raft.

Not that he really minds.

***

That evening they badger Lauren into reciting the speech she gave at her police academy graduation less than two weeks before. It's an honor reserved for the top of the class; Ray is prouder than he has any right to be, considering that he's not even her parent. He's proud of all the kids, of course, and Maria's too, but he can't deny that he cares a little extra about Lauren's choice of career. He's worked with lots of guys from old cop families over the years, and it always made him think of the knock-down-drag-out fight he'd had with his Pop over enrolling in the academy, when they hadn't spoken to each other for two weeks. He never figured Vecchio for becoming a real cop name.

The top of the class thing is pretty impressive, too.

It's a good speech, filled with all the parts of policing that Ray doesn't always remember to remember: that it's about helping people, protecting them, keeping them and their families safe and letting them live their lives without worry. It's about the responsibility to do those things, about trust and duty and service, not about deciding who's good and who's bad. There's a reason they have a shield, she says, which is a line Ray's heard before, but he'll forgive her that; she's only twenty-two. It's because their job is to protect, she says, to defend, to be an ever-vigilant guard against the intrusion of chaos and grief.

They all applaud when she's finished. Kowalski leans over and stage-whispers to him,

"I'll bet you five bucks she's Fraser's." Ray doesn't miss the fact that his eyes are shining, though, and his voice comes out a little rough.

"Da-aaad," complains Lauren, while Fraser blushes and stammers,

"Oh, no, Ray, I assure you, ah," and can't figure out who to look at.

"Well, she didn't get it from the kick-'em-in-the-head school of justice, that's for sure," says Ray, and gets up to hug his perfect niece.

***

He wakes up a little before four in the morning to use the bathroom and notices that Amanda's gone from her sleeping bag; he finds her sitting outside on the steps.

"Am I intruding?" he asks quietly, shutting the door behind him. She startles a little, then smiles, scooting over so he can sit next to her.

"No, just couldn't sleep."

"The light bothering you?"

"Well, not bothering, exactly. It just makes it hard to relax. I don't know how you do it."

"I'm just lucky I turned out to be one of the people who can, I guess." He rests his elbows on his knees, looking out at the sun-drenched trees, the little track leading to the road. There isn't a cloud in the sky today.

"I know what you mean, though," he says. "I don’t think my body's adjusted to the idea that it can be nighttime even when it's light outside. Maybe it never will, maybe I'm too old, who knows? I'll get tired, but I won't get sleepy."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know. I can feel tired, like I haven't gotten enough rest or whatever, but when it's light all the time I don't ever get the feeling that I'm ready to go to sleep. You know, yawning, heavy eyelids, all that."

"Yeah, that's exactly it. Is everyone here just sleep deprived all summer?"

"Well, we do spend most of the winter in bed to make up for it. Seriously, you should see the census data, I swear to god ninety percent of the population is born between August and October. There's just nothing to do in the winter but stay in and have sex all day."

"Uncle Ray!" protests Amanda, elbowing him. He grins at her.

"It's not so bad, though, really. You get used to it. You just have to make yourself calm down, you know, make your mind stop running in circles, and tired is enough to get you to sleep."

"I'll take your word for it," she says, skeptical.

"We could tack something up over the windows," he offers. "Or you can sleep in town, there's an extra bed in your parents' room and I know for a fact they have blackout curtains."

"No, it's fine. I've gone to work on less sleep than this plenty of times, and at least here I can always take a nap if I need to. You don't have anything big planned for today, right?"

"I don't think so."

"No problem, then. It's nice to be up early, anyway. I think I’m on vacation from wrangling screaming toddlers nine to five, but then I spend all day with all of them-" she jerks her head toward her sleeping siblings- "and it's just as crazy, maybe more. I don't mind a couple hours of quiet."

"I know what you mean," Ray says. "Not that I don't miss you all, of course, but-"

"But it's peaceful up here," Amanda finishes for him. "We're not big on peaceful in our family, are we?"

"Not so much, no." They smile at each other.

You don't really get silence at the cabin, except sometimes in the dead of winter when everything's dark and still and muffled by snow. Even then there's usually the fire crackling, or the cabin itself making quiet woody creaks, or wind in the bare branches and down the chimney. In summer there's still human quiet, if you can't hear anyone speak or breathe or move, but there's always the sounds of birds and plants and wind and often water, just out of sight. Ray listens to it all for a minute, just soaking it in. The sun is warming up his bare feet. Amanda's right; it's just about the most peaceful thing he can think of.

"I'm thinking of moving out," she says quietly, looking out at the trees.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Me and Rob were talking about getting an apartment in the fall. Don't tell Mom and Dad."

"My lips are sealed." He waits until she looks at him to mime zip-the-lips-throw-away-the-key. She grins.

"Thanks."

"Sure thing. I didn't realize you guys were that serious."

"We've been dating for four years, it's about time to get serious or get out, I think."

"Hmm." That makes him feel old as hell, though he doesn't say it. "So is there a ring coming with this apartment, or what?"

"We're gonna try living together first, but...yeah, maybe." She says it with this shy, delighted smile and he gives her a one-armed hug, pulling her into his side.

"Good for you."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, we're not even engaged yet."

"Well, don't wait too long."

"What, like thirty years, you mean?" she says, blinking up at him innocently. He rolls his eyes.

"God save me from children who think they're funny."

"That is kind of a long time, you have to admit."

"Yeah, yeah. What's Rob's family going to think about your queer old uncle bringing his partner to the wedding, anyway?"

"I don't give a shit what they think," she says. "Neither does Rob."

"I knew I liked him."

"He is pretty decent, as men go." She nudges him with her shoulder. "I like your Mountie, too. He's good to you."

"Woah now, scamp, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be judging the boys you bring home, not the other way around," he says, but his throat feels a little tight and he can't keep from smiling.

 

When he goes back inside Fraser's eyes are open, regarding him quietly as he picks his way through the maze of sleeping bodies and gets back into bed.

"Everything all right?" Fraser murmurs, reaching out sleepily to catch his hand.

"Yeah, Benny, everything's fine." Ray tugs Fraser's arm around his waist and closes his eyes. It's bright as day in the cabin, despite the curtains they've pulled over the windows, but he falls back to sleep as easy as anything.

***

Later that day Fraser decides that he's going to teach the kids how to split wood. There may be a slight ulterior motive to this; they only have the two axes, so the three who are waiting for their turn get put to work stacking, moving the enormous pile of logs that Fraser said were too green to burn last year up against the wall of the cabin and replacing it with the new stuff. Ray is all for delegating this particular job. Stacking wood takes forever, and it makes his back hurt.

"How does he do that?" Frannie asks, sitting down next to him on the unsawed log he's commandeered and stretching her legs out. "The last time any of them were this helpful was when they were five and thought raking and doing the dishes were fun grownup games."

"That was a good phase," Ray agrees. "Why did they grow out of that? I really liked that phase."

"Seems like a million years ago."

"Seems like yesterday to me," says Ray. He nods over at where Nick is handing off his axe to give Lauren a turn. "I swear she was only up to my waist last time I looked, and now she's a cop. An actual cop!"

"I blame you. You and Ray, both," says Frannie, but she sounds actually upset, not just play-bitter. He turns to look at her.

"What is it? You don't want her to?"

"What mother wants her daughter to be a cop?" She gestures to where Fraser is instructing Kowalski in the use of the second axe. "Jesus, Ray, all three of you got shot. More than once."

"That's not normal, that's just the weird Fraser effect," he tells her, though hell, he somehow hadn't thought about that. "Things get out of hand around him."

"He wasn't even in the country when Ray got shot," she says darkly.

"I know." He takes her hand, rubs his thumb over her knuckles. Fraser had been in Canada but Ray had been there, for the phone call and the awful, interminable days in the hospital and the months it took Kowalski to get back on his feet.

Frannie takes a deep breath and blows it out, turning their entwined hands over in an obvious bid to change the subject.

"I still can't believe you got married and didn't invite me," she says, eyeing the ring on his fourth finger.

"It wasn't a big deal, just a justice of the peace, sign some papers, boom, married. It was the easiest way to get the immigration stuff sorted out, that's all."

"Don't be an idiot, Ray."

"What? It's true!"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean it wasn't important. You love him, right?"

"Yeah," says Ray, no hesitation.

"So you got married to the guy you love, air leave it meant something."

Ray blinks and re-runs that sentence in his head. "You mean ergo?"

"Erleave, ergo, whatever, stop dodging the question."

"You aren't asking me a question!"

"I know, I'm telling you! Just because it happened to be convenient for immigration doesn't mean it wasn't important. You could have done it properly."

Ray doesn't even know how to explain that it really wasn't important. Of course he doesn't mind being married to Fraser, but it doesn't matter, not really. What matters is all the other things, everything said and unsaid between them long before there were rings involved. Which is how it should be, he thinks. Marriage is a way of showing other people something that you already know between the two of you, and when it comes to Fraser the only people he would care to tell already understand.

"I've already had a wedding," he tells Frannie. "I didn't need all that ridiculous fuss a second time. Anyway, I don't think you could have been a bridesmaid in a wedding without a bride, so you didn't miss much."

"I just think it would have been fun."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to be responsible for giving Ma a heart attack."

Frannie nods grudging acquiescence to that, untangling their hands and shifting around. Facts of Canadian life: logs are not actually that comfortable.

"How's she doing, by the way?" Ray asks. "Really."

"More good days than bad," says Frannie with an easy shrug. "Although someday she's going to forget that you and Ray aren't actually the same person, and then she'll be all confused about why her kids married each other."

Ray winces. He knows she forgets that Kowalski isn't actually her son sometimes- making her officially the only person to ever believe the guy could be Italian- and even though Frannie's joking she's probably right.

"I'm a terrible son," he says. "I could have waited to move up here. I could come home-"

Frannie elbows him, not all that gently. "Oh, shut up," she says. "You're a great son. You call every day-"

"Oh my god."

"What?"

"I forgot on Monday. It was just so crazy, with all of you arriving and getting the kids settled in and everything, it completely slipped my mind."

"It's fine, Ray and I called from the hotel."

Ray sighs, dropping his head into his hands. "Thanks. You're a lifesaver, Frannie."

She pats him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, I know."

 

Fraser ends up getting the two-man crosscut saw out, so they stay out there for most of the afternoon. Ray does a little bit of work, but he ducks out early to get dinner ready, which is no small feat. After they eat he dials Chicago and talks to Maria for a minute, and then Kowalski wants to ask Tony something, and then they get Ma on the phone so all the kids can tell her what a good time they're having and how much they miss her.

Ray hears Fraser telling her about how his replacement has been sent up and yes, he's a very nice man, and Fraser's been giving him good advice to get him started, and there isn't even a hint of impatience in his voice even though Ray knows this is at least the third time he's told her the story. It makes something inside him hurt, but in kind of a good way, like maybe he wasn't built to hold this much love.

***

Fraser's gone when Ray wakes up, which isn't a particularly rare occurrence. Fraser's a ridiculous species of morning person. Ray's no layabout himself, but you wouldn't catch him getting up at six in the morning to exercise. He folds his arms under his head and lets himself drift for a few minutes, and sure enough, there's the muted ruckus of Fraser coming back from a run with the dogs. What a nutcase.

Ray wanders outside in his pajamas rather than risk waking anyone up by banging around the dresser; it's not like there are neighbors around to scandalize. Fraser's still getting the dogs settled and fed, so Ray leans against the side of the cabin and watches him. It's really kind of unfair how gracefully Fraser's aging. He's flushed and a little tousled from the exercise, shirt darkened with sweat and clinging across his broad shoulders and chest.

"Good morning," says Fraser, coming over to greet Ray with a kiss. His fingers are light against Ray's cheek, and he protests when Ray tries to tug him closer.

"I'll get you all sweaty."

"So what?" says Ray, carding one hand through Fraser's hair, which is gray through and through but just as thick as ever. He is never, ever going to admit that he's a little jealous. He pulls Fraser in and kisses him more thoroughly, letting Fraser's weight press him into the wall, taking his time.

Fraser's smiling when they break apart.

"Hi," he says, a little goofily.

"Hi," Ray says back. "Nice to have a little privacy, isn't it?"

He doesn't mean anything by it, but Fraser's face falls just the same.

"I'm sorry, Ray."

"What? For what? They're my family."

"Well, yes, but there's no reason we should all have to be packed in like this. I could have added another room or two to the cabin when you came up, at least a bedroom we could close off, or even moved-"

"Woah," Ray interrupts. "Did I say I wanted another room?"

Fraser just looks at him.

"It's not rhetorical! Did I?"

"No, Ray."

"No, I did not. I came up here because I wanted to be part of your life, Benny, not because I wanted you to change it for me. Ridiculous one-room houses and all. Okay?"

Ray watches closely until Fraser nods.

"Okay."

Ray smiles at him, tilting his head back against the sun-warmed wood of the cabin.

"Although, I have to tell you, it was the indoor plumbing that really won me over. No way would I have moved in otherwise."

"I always knew you loved me for my plumbing," Fraser says gravely. Ray rolls his eyes, and Fraser gives him a little tiny grin, pleased with himself.

"I have to admit," he says, moving to stand against the wall next to Ray, "I do enjoy the convenience. Especially in winter."

Ray pats him on the leg.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you."

"Wouldn't want to tarnish your perfect Mountie image."

"I appreciate that."

"And obviously real Mounties shit in the snow."

"Ray!"

Ray grins and pushes himself up off the wall. "I thought I might walk into town and buy some more milk."

"We bought milk yesterday," says Fraser, frowning.

"Yes, exactly." Milk is a practically a luxury item up here, given the cost of shipping, but it's on the list of treats Ray gives himself. Even he'd forgotten how quickly nine people could go through food, though.

"Are you sure you want to walk? We could just pick it up later when we drive in for your sister and Ray Kowalski."

Ray goes to check his watch, remembers that he's still in his pajamas, and shrugs. "It'll time out well enough. I'll head over to the Mackenzie when I'm done and you can pick all three of us up together. It's nice out, and one of us hasn't stretched his legs yet this morning."

"All right," says Fraser. "Could you pick up some more peanut butter while you're there? I think Lauren had the last of it last night when she was looking for a snack."

"You got it."

Ray starts to go inside to get dressed, but Fraser stops him by calling his name softly.

"Hmm?" he says, turning. It takes Fraser a minute to work out what he's trying to say.

"Thank you," he eventually settles on. "For bringing your family here to visit. It's good to have them."

"Yeah, of course," says Ray, almost by rote. He's caught up in a sudden surge of too many emotions, because he knows that the dozens of other people he's attached to are always going to be part who he is and he's beyond lucky that that's something Fraser loves about him, not just tolerates but really loves. At the same time, though, it makes his heart clench to think about Fraser growing up with no real family to speak of, all the years he spent alone up here with colleagues and acquaintances but nobody real, nobody to rely on, to be there at the end of the day.

It's no use saying any of that, though- they are what they are, both of them, and there's no changing the lives they've led- so he just kisses Fraser again before he goes inside, makes it as sweet as he knows how.

***

This is what Ray thinks about on his walk into town, out on the quiet dirt road with birdsong and sunlight and the smell of water: maybe people are a little bit like trees. Maybe if you looked down inside a person you'd see a thousand little rings all building up to the sum of who they are now, in this moment, except instead of years the rings are all people. Ray imagines you could peel him layer by layer and inside there would be Ma and Pop around his very core, and his sisters, his aunts and uncles and grandparents and the kids he grew up with. There would be rings for Irene and Ange and Stella, rings for everyone he ever worked with, rings for Tony and Kowalski and all his nieces and nephews. One for Armando Langoustini, somewhere in there. Two rings for Fraser, maybe, one old one long since grown around, long since a part of him, and another one that's new, only bark, protective and strong between him and the world.

It's not a particularly good metaphor, but whatever. Fraser's the one who knows how to do this stuff elegantly.

The point is, he's glad to give Fraser some of his own people-rings. He's glad to let them surround Fraser too, work their slow way into being part of him, year by year.

***

Inuvik is tiny, sure, but there's enough to it to fill a day in town, especially since everyone wants to spend a while souvenir shopping for their various friends and significant others. The next day they take two trips in and meet up in the hotel restaurant for breakfast. As soon as they're within range of the wifi the kids all make their various devices appear, and Frannie props her hands on her hips and gives them a look.

"I will make an exception just this once because I know you've gone days without internet and you're probably in the extreme stages of withdrawal, but here's how this is going to work. You get the length of breakfast and that's it, then you have to plug back into the rest of us human beings. People who are going to stare at screens, that end of the table. People who are going to actually conversate, this end of the table."

"I love it when you get bossy," Kowalski tells her, snagging a kiss as the kids shuffle into their seats. He gets a chorus of _TMI!_ and _We didn't need to know that!_ from their end of the table.

"Seriously, Kowalski?" says Ray, sitting down and grabbing a menu.

"Hey, they're all adults now, it's not like they don't know what goes on between a man and a woman. Or a man and a man," he adds, tilting his head and Ray and Fraser.

"I don't care what they know. That's my sister you're talking about."

"She's my wife."

"She's _right here_ ," says Frannie. She bops each of them over the head with her menu. "God, you two are the worst. Shut up and order."

"Ooh, there you go again," says Kowalski, which makes Frannie snicker. Kelly, who's sitting next on the other side of him, puts her face in her hands and moans,

"Please stop."

"Oh, come on," says Kowalski. "Aren't I supposed to raise you to be sex positive? To defy gender stereotypes? I'm just doing my job."

"Do it less," suggests Nick from farther down the table. The other kids are trying to be too absorbed in their electronics to notice the conversation.

"Wouldn't want to fail in my duties as a father, right?" says Kowalski cheerfully, looking around the adult end of the table. "Back me up here, somebody."

"Certainly, Ray," says Fraser. "It's important for young adults to understand that a certain degree of power exchange between two consenting parties can be a perfectly normal and enjoyable part of sexual relations."

He goes on, too, about how many regretful incidents could be averted by a culture of acceptance, but Ray and Kowalski simultaneously losing it- it's the lecture voice, you just don't ever recover from it- pretty much drowns him out.

 

Fraser peels off after breakfast and Ray takes everyone else on a tour. It gives him the same proud feeling it did at the beginning of the week, but even more so, because he gets to show off the parts of town that are really his: the court where he assistant coaches rec basketball in the fall, their little plot in the community greenhouse that Fraser lets him fill with herbs.

They get to the MSC early because there are a lot of them and Ray doesn't want to pick between getting good seats and sitting together. Kowalski balks when he sees the rink, of course, which is why Ray didn't tell him where they were going.

"Oh, no way," he says, trying to backpedal through the throng of his family. "We are not watching curling."

"We are so watching curling, Fraser's playing," Ray says, grabbing him by the shirt to stop him going too far. "Don't worry, I'll explain what's going on."

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

He has time to explain the basics before the game starts, though he mostly gets blank looks in return. Kowalski very pointedly ducks out to hit the concession stand with Kevin. The seats around them fill up in a hurry, because it's Inuvik, so of course an afternoon 60s-and-over amateur curling match draws a crowd. Ray actually really appreciates that; the first time he'd gone to one of these he'd been worried that it would be the Canadian equivalent of bingo club, but it turns out that all the old men in Inuvik are just as competitive as Fraser, and just as obsessively polite about it, too, which is pretty much the most hilarious thing ever.

Nobody else seems to agree with him on this. He tries explaining more of the strategy while they watch, but Kowalski just says,

"Give it up, Vecchio. Understanding what's going on is not going to magically make it interesting. How about you teach me how to heckle instead? That could be fun."

"Can't heckle in curling, it's not polite," Ray tells him absently, leaning around the tall guy in front of him to try to suss out what Fraser's planning down on the ice. Kowalski looks at him in horror.

"Oh my god, you've gone native."

"Have not."

"You really have, Ray," puts in Frannie. "Next thing you know you'll be tipping your hat and holding doors for people."

"I don't even have a hat," he protests, and then gets distracted because hey, that last throw means Fraser's team's won the first end, and that means he's actually allowed to cheer his head off for a minute.

"I am so embarrassed for you right now," Frannie says when he sits back down.

"It's self-defense," he tells her. "It was either get into it or spend three hours every week bored out of my mind. I had no choice."

"Please tell me you didn't just say three hours," says Kowalski. "Please, please tell me I heard you wrong."

"Nope, your ears are doing just fine," says Ray, slinging a friendly arm around his shoulders. "Now, do you want me to explain the line and weight thing again?"

***

The next day, Fraser offers to take the Vecchio-Kowalskis out hunting as his last act of Canadianism before they leave. The kids all agree to go, as does Frannie, which Ray can tell surprises Fraser. He's not sure why; Frannie's always been kind of bloodthirsty. The kids take the black fly ointment this time, after scratching bites from the hike all week, and Ray very maturely doesn't say I told you so.

He offers the jar to Kowalski, who shakes his head and says,

"I'm good, thanks. I could barely stand to watch Fraser skin things when they were the only meal available, I'm not gonna do it voluntarily."

"I doubt they're going to actually get anything," Ray says. "It'll probably be more like tracking class, knowing Fraser."

"All the more reason to skip it," says Kowalski with a grin.

He's got a good point. Ray has definitely met his quota of tracking lessons and of watching Fraser do gross things, probably for life. They wave the others off and then it's just the two of them standing there in front of the cabin.

"You mind that he keeps stealing the kids?" Kowalski asks, once they're out of earshot.

"Nah. I lived with them their whole lives, he's only got a couple days to cram all his uncle-ing in. I sure wouldn't want to take them out hunting, anyway."

Kowalski nods. They stand quietly for a minute; Ray sticks his hands in his pockets and looks around. "You wanna take the canoe out?" he asks eventually.

"You know what you're doing? Me and bodies of water don't really get along."

"That's because you're supposed to stay on top of them, Kowalski, not in them." Kowalski gives him a look and he relents. "Yeah, I know what I'm doing. Promise."

It's the absolute truth. Ray's never going to be much use in a dogsled except as ballast, but last summer he got Fraser to teach him how to steer a canoe, and that came surprisingly easy. Maybe he wouldn't want to go down a whitewater river, but he's just fine for the maze of channels and little lakes that spreads out around the cabin.

He hadn't even really known it was there when he moved up, but it turns out that the Mackenzie Delta is Ray's favorite thing about Inuvik. When the ice melts it reveals this vast wetland world that's almost unreal, like some nature photographer thought it up, scrubby trees casting shadows on slow clear water and a thousand different kinds of birds. He likes the canoe, too. There's something peaceful about it, the way it moves smooth and quiet and right down there in the water, nothing like the motor boats he went on once or twice as a kid. In a canoe you can't see around the next turn; you have to look up at the little islands and steer around the weird muskrat beaver dam things, like you're part of it all.

He shows Kowalski how to paddle in the front, just the basics, and they set off at an easy pace. Ray's not trying to get anywhere in particular. He and Fraser have mapped the closest parts of the surrounding wetlands, just for fun, Ray steering them slow while Fraser alternated between paddling and sketching. It isn't much, though; he and Kowalski could power their way out of the area he knows in an hour or two if they really put their backs into it. There's an emergency whistle tied to the bow in case they actually get lost, but he'd really rather not use it.

He lets Kowalski provide most of their momentum, dipping his own paddle in to sweep or rudder as they meander through the channels.

"It's beautiful in here," says Kowalski, looking over his shoulder. "I had no idea."

"Yeah, I love it," agrees Ray. "Hey, if you twirl your paddle between strokes so it's horizontal to the water, it'll make it easier." He demonstrates, and Kowalski nods, shifting his hands. He gets the hang of it pretty easily.

The landscape seems to have the same calming effect on Kowalski that it does on Ray; they mostly stay quiet, just the soft ripple of the canoe moving and the ever-present birdcalls. Now and then they drift in and out of little bits of conversation.

"Three o'clock," murmurs Kowalski at one point, and Ray looks to his right to see a large brown and white bird stretching its wet wings out to dry in the sun. They stop paddling so they don't startle it, drifting until Ray has to correct their course to stop them running into the bank. Despite his best efforts he knocks his paddle against the canoe and the bird spooks and takes off.

"Look at that," he says, shading his eyes to watch.

"What is it?"

"Hell if I know. You gotta ask Fraser for that stuff. I can ID a muskrat, but that's about it."

"You're a real man of the land, Vecchio," says Kowalski, but there's no bite to it. He sounds lazy, dreamlike, the way this whole place feels.

 

Later, Ray says,

"I talked to Frannie the other day. She's really scared about Lauren joining the force."

"Yeah," says Kowalski, stretching his bad leg out so he can prop it on the bow of the canoe.

"You worried?"

"Scared shitless. What am I gonna do, though, cover her in bubble wrap and lock her in her room?"

"Fair enough," says Ray, and lets it go.

 

And later than that, as they're almost back to the cabin:

"I feel like I should tell you that if you hurt Fraser I'll kill you, but I'm not sure I get to give that speech."

"Probably not. It's your own fault I’m up here, you and Frannie."

(They'd pulled him aside at his retirement party, out into the hall, and pressed a piece of paper into his hands.

"What's this?" he'd asked.

"Your present," said Kowalski.

"Well, not quite," said Frannie. "We just printed that one to give you the idea. We wanted to check with you about your schedule before we actually bought something, but once you give us the dates we'll do it."

Ray blinked at them and unfolded the paper cautiously. It was an airline trip itinerary: Chicago, Vancouver, Edmonton, Yellowknife, Norman Wells, Inuvik.

"Look, just do it," said Kowalski quickly, before he could speak.

"You're retired," put in Frannie. "You're out of excuses to stay here. Come on."

He stared.

"What about Ma, and the house? And-"

"We'll handle it," said Frannie. "Hey, you worried about everything for years while we were busy with the kids, and that's great, we couldn't have done it without you. But let us have a turn now, okay? We can do it. Me and Maria and Ray will look after Ma, I promise."

It was usually hard to shut either of them up, but once they'd said their piece Frannie and Kowalski just stood there in the dim hallway and waited, watching him. Ray looked down at the paper, crinkling a little where he was hanging on to it too hard. Chicago, Vancouver, Edmonton, Yellowknife, Norman Wells, Inuvik.

Inuvik.

"Okay," he heard himself say, and it came out sounding like he was giving up but that wasn't how it felt at all. Frannie squeaked and hugged him and he said it again, surer this time.

"Okay. Okay, I'll go.")

 

"I'll cop to that," says Kowalski. "You seem happy, the two of you. It's good to see."

"Thanks," says Ray, touched. He and Kowalski have known each other a long time now, sure, but they don't do much in the way of heart-to-hearts.

"You glad you did it?" Kowalski asks.

"Yeah," says Ray, nodding even though Kowalski's facing away. "Yeah, I'm glad. No regrets."

***

It seems like the whole visit only lasts minutes between picking everyone up at the airport and dropping them back off. They do another round of hugs- Fraser looks a little more comfortable this time- and Ray extracts promises from everyone that they'll come up again soon. Then they're saying goodbye, and waving as the plane takes off, and then, finally, they're home again, just the two of them.

The cabin seems positively spacious without the flock of Vecchios and accompanying clutter. Ray gives a happy sigh and flops onto the bed on his back.

"Hey, thanks for letting my family invade," he says. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes," says Fraser. "It's hard to believe how much your nieces and nephews have grown up since the last time I saw them."

"I know. It's time to face it, Fraser, we're old men. And this old man loves his family but is happy to have some peace and quiet again, let me tell you."

Fraser doesn't respond to that for too long, so Ray cracks one eye open to look at him.

"What?"

"Well, are you sure?" says Fraser. "I know you enjoyed having them here, and you're used to being the head of a large household-"

"Oh, stop it," Ray interrupts. "Wait, you're not really worried, are you? Stop and think for a minute. Are you actually worried about this?"

Fraser looks caught out, and then gives him a little self-conscious smile. "Well, not especially, no. I just thought it would be considerate to inquire."

Ray rolls his eyes. "Okay, you've inquired, you Canadian lunatic. Now get over here, would you? I haven't even seen you shirtless in a week, never mind anything else."

"Ray, it's three in the afternoon," Fraser protests, but he comes over anyway, sitting on the edge of the bed to get his shoes off.

"So what?" says Ray. "Did you have plans for this afternoon? Something on the agenda?"

"As a matter of fact-"

"Well, we can do it tonight, whatever it is," Ray tells him, sitting up so he can press a kiss to the back of Fraser's neck. "It's not like it's gonna get dark."


End file.
